The nonary game: -1
by DarkNite88
Summary: (Title to be changed) We all know about the first Nonary game. But what if there was one before that? When Arisa wakes up one day on a sinking ship with 8 other people and a metal bracelet on her wrist, she knows her life will be changed forever. [SYOC closed] /ON HIATUS/
1. SYOC

Hello to all!

I've been super excited to write a 999 fanfic because I absolutely LOVE this game, but as I was going to come up with the characters, I realised that I should use this as my first opportunity to make this my first SYOC story!

Even if you have not played/finished/read 999 (although I highly doubt it considering that you're here), you can still submit an OC! This is the form:

* * *

><p>Name:<p>

Alias: (optional)

Bracelet number: (optional)

Age: (between 9 and 16)

Gender:

Height:

Weight:

Birthday: (optional)

Appearance:

_Including, at least:_ _hair, eyes, clothes, physical (e.x. are they strong, muscled?)_

Personality: _Including a few lines of sample dialogue (this is so that I can be sure to write them in character)_

Backstory: _Just a basic backstory, which may or may not affect/explain their character._

I will then decide on the role they will play.

* * *

><p>I've already decided on our main character, unfortunately.<p>

Anyways, there are no restrictions on the number of boys and girls, so feel free to submit either gender.

In the end, I will be choosing the most interesting characters. If I do not receive enough forms, or there are too many boring and generic characters, I will be making some myself.

You can also find this form on my profile.

I look forwards to seeing your character ideas!

- DarkNite88


	2. 9 persons

**1.**

* * *

><p>'Jasmine Eliza Ariosto'…<p>

'Jasmine Eliza Ariosto'...

'What a stupid name..._'_

Jasmine couldn't help but feel a familiar pang of both pain and anxiety as she passed her old school. She had been bullied for 6 years straight and had been that close from reaching her breaking point.

Quickly averting her eyes, she continued quickly down the pavement.

_Don't think about it, don't think about it, don't think about it, don't think-_

_Gaaah!_

Of course, prohibiting something always made her more inclined to do it. She was the same as any human being.

When she looked up, she had thankfully already passed the school. Now, she was surrounded by bland office buildings.

_What a stupid reason to become upset…_

When Jasmine had transferred into high school, she had left her past behind her. She had forgotten about getting bullied. She had forgotten, or at least tried to forget, the scars she still bore on her arms today. It hadn't been easy, but she had done it. However, a somewhat childish part of her heart still clung to the painful experiences for whatever reason and she was unable to shake it off. It really was a bother.

Today, she had an appointment with her psychologist. The round, jovial woman had done little for her days of depression and anxiety, yet, Jasmine had still continued to see her in the increasingly fleeting hopes that some problems would be solved in the end.

Today, she was going to stop these meetings. It would all be fine now. She didn't need some paid stranger to give her useless advice.

The news passed without a hitch, and soon Jasmine was back home, sitting through a normal dinner with her family. Her appetite had decreased lately, simply by eating a few blocks of chocolate in the early afternoon, so she often skipped dinner, despite her parents' insistence that she was too skinny. She couldn't deny that she was somewhat of a tall, skeletal figure, though by no means as emaciated as her parents seemed to imply.

A few hours later, she was lying quietly in bed when a hand suddenly clamped over her mouth and nose, a wet rag touching her face, its smell sickly sweet. Her eyes widened in sudden terror.

She quickly fell unconscious.

* * *

><p><strong>2.<strong>

* * *

><p>Hana Takaramono looked proudly in the mirror. It was her second week back at school after yet another one of her medical leaves, the longest one yet, and she was really glad. Nothing in the world could erase the broad grin off her face. She was feeling better than ever.<p>

School once more passed without a hitch, considering that she was fully recovered now - her chubby chipmunk cheeks were almost gone now and she was even gaining a little weight. Her friends and peers were treating her normally once more and all aspects of her daily life that she had been deprived of during the last few months were steadily falling back into place.

Schoolwork was a little hard considering the length of time she had been absent, but her teachers explained everything perfectly, leaving her feeling more than a little relieved. Everything, every single thing would be fine, after all.

It felt like good karma, dismissing the fact that she had really been much of a saint lately. Perhaps her heart's previous owner was an exceptional little girl. In any case, Hana felt new, different. She felt … sparkly. Nothing was too hard for this new Hana. She was the 4th grade's own fairy princess ballerina, no matter how stupid the boys thought that sounded.

When the teacher asked her to stay behind after school for a little chat, Hana couldn't help but feel a little worried. However, she soon convinced herself that it was simply to ensure that she was doing well in terms of health, to which the answer would be "yes, of course, thank you very much for your concern."

Things played out much differently to how she had thought they would, in the end. When the teacher closed the door to the now empty corridor, all the middle-aged woman said was "sorry".

Hana looked at her, eyes wide in surprise. With astonishing speed, the teacher slipped on a gas mask, pulling out a little canister and letting it roll towards Hana. White smoke invaded the room.

Hana's smiled drooped for the first time out of the hospital and a fat tear rolled down her cheek as she realized what was happening to her.

Looking up at her now unrecognizable teacher, she opened her mouth.

The first half of a syllable of her one word question was the only sound that made its way out of her mouth before she fell unconscious.

The 'y' sound was forever lost.

* * *

><p><strong>3.<strong>

* * *

><p>Chitose Horigoshi had been kicked out of the house again.<p>

Well, 'kicked out' was not the appropriate term. If anything she had been forbidden to leave, but had done so in order to escape the stuffy, smoke-filled rooms and her borderline abusive father.

Tonight, the term 'slut' had surfaced once more. She had been criticized from her appearance, but also her bad grades and time spent out of the house. Her father had heard rumors that she had had sex with her boyfriend, the same rumors that were going around at her school right now, but they weren't true. She was underage and so was he, and despite her rebellious attitude she wasn't going to go as far as actually breaking laws. She was the only one of the group that didn't smoke, drink, or use illegal substances. Not that her father would believe her anyways.

"Not that I care," she reminded herself with a wry smile. "At the end of the day, there's only one truth…"

Unfortunately, her words felt too forced tonight. No matter how much she convinced herself otherwise, the truth was that the words had hurt. They really had.

She would change. She would have changed. Except…

This was her only way out. She detested her parents, and defying them was the only way to reassure herself that… She didn't even know how or what it reassured, but it reassured her nonetheless.

Tonight, she had reached her limit. For the first time, she considered taking drugs. The cheapest type. Where she would find them, though, she had no idea. Perhaps her friends would have some.

She walked around dark streets. It was a little chilly, and her short shorts and thin, translucent shirt weren't doing much to keep out the cold. Small goosebumps formed across her skin, and before she knew it, she had begun to cry.

_Damn, it'll ruin my mascara and eyeliner..._

She couldn't stop. It really, really hurt.

She had actually attempted suicide once. Slitting her wrists seemed to be the most effective options, but it had failed. She had been rushed to hospital and later scolded for being so stupid and staining the carpet. All proof that her parents didn't give a single f**k for the well being of their most likely unwanted daughter.

She rounded a corner into an unknown street, her feet carrying her of their own will. She was past caring now.

As she meandered around, she tried to recall positive thoughts of the day. She had skipped maths class. She had gone to the shopping mall with her friends, she had had a good laugh.

The tears left her body weak. She slumped down onto the rough concrete ground.

"Miss, are you okay?"

A voice startled her. She quickly sat up, smoothing out her bleached blonde hair.

"Uh, yeah, I'm fine."

The darkly dressed man, despite his politeness and seeming lack of malicious intentions still unnerved her a little. She backed away, but collided against someone else. Another man.

Men surrounded her. They looked mostly expressionless. Fear coursed through her. This couldn't be happening...

* * *

><p><strong>4.<strong>

* * *

><p>"Okay, and… GO!"<p>

Arinori Shoumanachi carefully guided his sister across the busy street whilst still transforming the little journey home into some sort of pirate quest, full of phrases such as 'shiver me timbers', 'aye me hearties' and 'savvy?' The young girl sprinted across the road happily as her older brother tagged along.

"Come ON, onii-chan!" she urged, grabbing his left hand, or rather, stump, and dragging him along behind her. Arinori had no option but to resign… or make his escape. He slid out his arm from her grasp and quickly dashed into tickling her with the famous zapping technique. She double over in laughter, spinning around to try and evade him.

The fun ended when she rounded the wrong corner too fast. He didn't worry about this at all, lagging now quite a few metres behind, but when he heard the high-pitched scream, he broke out into a sprint. He had never ran so fast before in his life.

"ONII-CHAN!"

"AI-CHAN!"

He rounded the corner to find her in a dark alleyway being restrained by two men. She was sobbing, tears streaming down her little face. Her limbs were shaking uncontrollably and her teeth were chattering from fear.

"Ah, just the man we were looking for," one chuckled calmly.

"Let her go!" Arinori shouted.

"Nice hairstyle, dude. Totally goes with your hat."

It had been a while since Arinori had felt truly angry, but right now, it was about 10 times worse than the last time he had experienced the emotion. If anger caused temperatures to rise, he'd be some sort of glop of melted human flesh by now.

"Let her-!" he started to say, but at that moment, he was hit on the back of the head, hard. Very hard.

He went cross-eyed for a moment before slumping to the ground like a sack of potatoes, his sister's earsplitting scream quickly muffled by one of of the men's large, gloved hands.

* * *

><p><strong>5.<strong>

* * *

><p>It was funny how divorce ruined everything.<p>

June 11th was a very important day for Avery Celeste. It was her birthday, no less. Neither of her parents had remembered.

She was starting to get used to it. When she was 11, her parents' arguing had gotten to the point of violence. When she had clambered out of bed to ask what was going on, tears welling, her father had picked up the closest object and thrown it at her. It was a frozen bagel. It had still hurt.

Naturally, the man loved his daughter and apologized countless times the next day. Little did he know that Avery didn't care for apologies. She just wanted things to be _normal_. Soon afterwards, the divorce papers had been filed. Avery's mother had taken custody for her daughter, bringing up the frozen bagel incident in court. Still, Avery loved her father, but when her mother started moving around, she saw him less and less, until it was _maybe_ every second year.

She took off her slender black glasses and rubbed her slightly pointy nose, permitting herself a sigh. Now was not the time to focus on such trivial matters. Unfortunately, it wasn't so easy. Useless meetings with a psychologist about her rapidly increasing coolness towards her family members and sudden devotion to sport and studies had done nothing, if not make the situation worse. The meetings with a psychologist weren't even necessary in the first place. Emily Celeste had always said that she wanted her daughter to be devoted to such subjects. Avery had reached the conclusion that the woman she called her mother was suffering from common symptoms of middle-aged-ness, the main trait being that she simply did not know what she wanted.

The main thing that ruined her birthday was the annual move. This time, it hadn't been overseas, but it was still a move, and that meant temporary furniture, lots of work and a new school as quickly as possible. Perhaps her birthday was still trapped in one of those tightly packed boxes. Maybe …

She made her way to the kitchen to get a glass of water. It was full of boxes, cutlery and crockery strewn everywhere as her mother started to arrange them in the drawers.

A glass of water stood on the counter, waiting for her. Deciding that it would do her no harm, she picked it up and downed it in one go.

Upon returning to her equally barren yet messy room, she started to feel increasingly tired. Funny …

She decided to lie down on the wonky air mattress in the corner for a little nap.

The nap stretched on much longer than originally expected. Much longer than a naturally induced nap would.

* * *

><p><strong>6.<strong>

* * *

><p>"Would you like some soup?"<p>

"No."

Hokata Yamaki refused for the umpteenth time his mother's initiative in packing his own lunch. He was fully capable of doing it himself at 15 years of age, but she didn't want to hear that. Not like he was hungry in the first place.

She let out a sigh. "Okay, Hokata-chan. Whatever you say."

Incidentally, it was taking less and less persuasion for her to back out.

He could understand her concern, but there was no need for it. Lack of food surprisingly made his brain work better, and something light and breakfast and dinner was more than enough.

He walked to school by himself. It was nearing the end of the school year, and others were walking in increasingly large groups, but he was alone all the time. No one liked to approach him.

It felt like a situation out of a manga. Toradora, to be more exact. Except, unlike Ryuuji, he wasn't trying to make his too long bangs fluffy in an attempt to create an aura of approachability. He wasn't trying to fix his image. Everything was fine as it was. True, he did wish from time to time that someone might initiate conversation, but he did have a history of rebuking most people. He also felt as if they were doing it simply to be polite rather than actually meaning it, and he had no time or interest for hollow people.

He habitually and relentlessly twiddled the blue ring around his right thumb until the skin was red. Even then, he didn't stop. Many had often mocked him for wearing jewelry that was much too feminine, but he was in disagreement with them and thus didn't care… much. The word 'feminine' always reminded him of his sister. He would have minded being like her, really - the pride of both her parents and her school; a girl who had no troubles. A girl who wasn't forced to deal with shadowy figures of her imagination and, as a result, pushed to see more than four different psychologists in the past two years.

Hokata briefly considered skipping school once more, but that would make it three days in a row, which would most likely end in a serious scorning from his father. Despite his lack of interest in family matters, he didn't feel all that comfortable draining more energy than needed from a seemingly workaholic man who, in reality, only spent so much time behind a computer screen to help his family.

Nearing lunch, Hokata's resolve to stay in class failed him. He slipped out when the teacher's back was turned and slipped into the library, extra careful not to be caught. He made his way to the furthermost section of the library, searching for mystery and puzzle novels, a rare smiling drawing the corners of his lips slightly upwards.

However, the first thing he noticed was an envelope on the chair he always occupied. It was addressed to him.

His interest piqued, he opened it. The contents were a jumble of words and letters. Puzzled, he suddenly noticed a masked figure in the corner. A result of his…

Wait, that one was not a figment of his imagination. It was too obviously real.

There was a small 'pscht' of gas being released. Hokata suddenly felt dizzy, his legs failed him. He collapsed back into the armchair without a sound, head lolling to the side.

* * *

><p><strong>7.<strong>

* * *

><p>A '100' written in red at the top of his test paper sheet made Yuuta's heart to swell in pride and a sense of accomplishment. He repeatedly glanced at Naoro Kurogane, who was looking very worried as she realized that he had beat her once more. The two had been engaged in a fierce academic feud for as long as he could remember, and he had continually been coming up on top. There were times where she did surpass him by one or two points, but it was too little to break his winning streak.<p>

Still, he smiled politely at her and congratulated her on her efforts - she had come very close to beating him with a score of 98.5 - but he was secretly glad that she just couldn't cut it.

"Matsumoto-kun! Would you like to play basketball after school?" a friend of his called out from across the classroom.

Yuuta wasn't the sporty type, but he wouldn't refuse a social, friendly gathering such as this one.

"Sure."

When the end of the day came, he changed into shorts and tied his hoodie around his waist. It was quite hot, after all.

He wasn't the best at basketball, but that didn't really matter. His friend's ball had so much writing on it that it was more black than orange. The graffiti ball missed the hoop, but Yuuta didn't mind in the least. This was fun on it's own.

A group of girls came by him, and he engaged in friendly conversation. He didn't have romantic feelings for anyone at the present time, but one of the boys was starting to blush. The girl who had stolen his heart wasn't even aware of it.

Eventually, the girls left. The school was completely deserted now. One by one, his friends left, and Yuuta soon followed.

However, as he was about to leave, he stopped dead in his tracks. The gate was now bolted. Running around, he found this was the same all around the school. He couldn't get out.

Just his luck, his mobile phone was dead. There was no way of notifying his parents. He hoped his friends would tell them.

He sat idly around - no one seemed to be passing around the school, and so he couldn't really call for help or anything. An hour later, a stranger suddenly made an appearance.

"Hey!" Yuuta called.

The stranger turned and saw that trapped boy.

"I'm stuck in here. Would you be able to contact one of the school staff or someone to help me to get out?"

The stranger smiled, but it was hollow. "No need." He pulled out a key and opened the gate.

It struck Yuuta as weird, but he was now free, so who was he to complain?

"Thanks you," he said earnestly as he approached the gate and the man, but just as he was about to step into freedom, the stranger's hand clamped around Yuuta's mouth.

His world instantly turned black.

* * *

><p><strong>8.<strong>

* * *

><p>Arisa Arihyoshi's dad never picked her up from school.<p>

She wasn't complaining - she didn't have the friendliest relationship with him after all and preferred seeing him the least possible - but she didn't like the fact that he hired a taxi to pick her up every day. At her school, not many were from super rich families, so this felt a bit like flaunting her economical status, something for which she had been mocked a few times in younger years and now left her feeling severely uncomfortable.

When the taxi did arrive, she clambered in as fast as possible, trying not to be noticed. Once inside, she reached into her bag, taking out a small white pill and a bottle of water, and swallowed it.

It had been at least six weeks since she had got the medicine, and they had worked wonders. She no longer carried a folded brown paper bag on her anymore. She didn't take gasping breaths that lead everyone to think that she had asthma. She was no longer confronted to the sudden bursts of lightheadedness that forced her to lie down and scrunch her eyes closed.

Unfortunately, miracles never last. Soon enough, she had found that, similarly to sleeping pills, the medication was having less and less effect on her.

At the moment, the familiar but extremely uncomfortable feeling of lack of air plagued her, amplifying itself as she rode in the taxi. This was more than her usual anxiety. Something in her gut felt ... off.

She shook her head, trying to banish the thought, but it remained stubbornly in the back of her mind.

Dust coated her throat and swallowing became painful. She gulped down some water but, despite herself, started to cough.

Wait, was that … gas?

There was a white, smoky substance making its way in wisps around the car. The driver seemed to have some sort of a gas mask on.

'_You've got to be kidding me… It's so cliché...' _She smiled bitterly.

Those were Arisa's last thoughts before she lapsed into unconsciousness.

* * *

><p><strong>9.<strong>

* * *

><p>Hibiki Akiyama wished that girl on the train would stop talking.<p>

The bottle blonde was practically screaming into her cracked iPhone, seemingly holding a very funny and gossip-filled conversation with the person on the other line. It was really annoying.

Still, he didn't say anything. He removed his hat and fiddled around with it for a while, but otherwise ignored the rowdy teen who was sitting two seats away from him, the seat in-between them being empty.

Eventually, the train started to empty it's load. Even the noisy girl got off about 20 minutes later, having only just finished her phone call and taken up complaining on how her phone lost so much battery so quickly instead. Clearly not the makings of an Apple salesperson.

Roughly half an hour after he had boarded the train, he was alone. Well, almost alone.

There was one other man on the bus, dressed exactly like Hibiki, from the messy blonde hair partially covered by a brown hat to the black school shoes. Everytime Hibiki looked away, his 'clone' inched so subtly forwards until they were directly in front of each other. Scared that the person would suddenly be beside him if he glanced away once more, Hibiki kept a firm eye on him.

When the train stopped at the deserted, second-last station, it didn't keep going. After a couple of minutes, Hibiki decided to go talk to the driver.

"Where do you think you're going?"

His 'clone' was the one speaking to him.

"The train isn't moving, it would make sense for me to ask the driver how come, am I wrong?" Hibiki asked politely but with a hint of annoyance in his voice.

The other smiled. "Don't worry, nothing's wrong. I asked him to stop after all, and not open the doors _no matter what_."

"Why would you do that?"

"Because of this."

Smoke started to fill the cabin. Hibiki covered his mouth with his hat and ran to the door, trying to open it. His 'clone' chuckled.

"Don't worry. It won't hurt a bit."

"Gr… You… bastard…"

Hibiki slumped unconscious.

"Okay!" the man yelled out to the driver. "You can get going now!"

With a jolt and a high-pitched squeal, the train started to move again.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I just decided to include this chapter as a bit of an introduction. 999-y stuff should come next chapter. **

**Thank you to Lynorera, Shouta Izukai and awesomest99er for their OCs. **

**Please review!**


End file.
